7 chapter 6

Hyoudou Residence

It wasn't my Vampiric senses.

It wasn't my Dragonborn Soul.

It was me.

Me.

THIS IS ME MOTHERFUCKER!

The person I fucking was, or, more accurately, the person I had fucking become, upon slapping on the skin and veneer of my Skyrim Character.

This person allowed me to laugh like a motherfucking maniac as I felt the soul of Ddraig rush into my body. I stood, triumphant, over the corpse of a middle-aged man, his zombie-son, and his confused, terrified wife.

"HAHAHAHAHA! FUCK! THIS – THIS – THIS FEELING!"

Adrenaline. It pumped through my veins like I'd been given the ichor of the gods in a rushed transfusion. Considering I'd just also absorbed the soul of a bloody dragon – I supposed it was to be expected.

It hit me as to why I was fucking okay with this.

It clicked as to why the scene in front of me was making me excited. All I had to do was ask one rather fucking obvious question:

How had I gotten most of my Daedric Artefacts?

The Mace of Molag Bal?

I beat into submission a hapless priest until he died, was brought back, and died again, until his will was broken enough to submit to an eternity under the Daedric Prince. It was probably a hundred times worse in universe, I mean, fuck, I beat a guy to death, and did it for a weapon.

Mehrunes Dagger?

I killed the fucker who requested of me to help him find and put together the pieces, and then took the blade as a trophy. The lighter example here, but the sheer realization that I wouldn't even have known about the dagger if not for him, yet, turned around and killed him to get it – that said a whole fucking lot about me.

Let's not even go mentioning Namira's Ring and the Ebony Blade.

Hah. Hah.

But hey, it was all in a fucking videogame, and you know, I'd never actually do that type of shit in real life. That'd be like saying that anyone who ever played Grand Theft Auto would really go about fucking hookers and then running them over once they were done. That'd just be obviously fucking stupid – and people didn't have the mindsets of their fucking videogame characters.

Not every nerd who played Max Payne 3 would wake up a bitter, cynical alcoholic with a penchant to abuse painkillers, and not every shy girl who played Tomb Raider would suddenly become a capable survivalist badass. At the same time however, none of these people had actually been put in the body of those characters before. Not just being put into the body of these characters, but being given the brains of these characters.

BUT I HAD!

And I could feel it, the realization in my mind, telling me that slaughtering an innocent family for the beaaaatiful power that was the Boosted Gear was perfectly fucking acceptable! It didn't even rank among the top hundred list of bad things I'd done as Ragnar Lothbrok. Hell-fucking-no – it didn't even rank the top one-thousand.

Why?

Because I was in the body and mind of a person who slaughtered everyone in Skyrim.

It was like waking up as Trevor-fucking-Phillips. Good fucking luck trying to be a decent person.

Other than an odd 'tingle' in my gut that was most likely the last remnant of my moral compass, I felt perfectly fucking vindicated at the sight of Issei's soul, trapped, and begging and banging for release, within the Grand Soul Gem.

I'd just taken someone's soul and imprisoned it – potentially – for all eternity, and I wasn't even bothered. It felt no different from ordering a pizza with pepperonis to my doorstep. It shouldn't – but it did. The people of Skyrim shrugged at the concept of enchanted weapons and the fact that souls were used as batteries was just another fact of life.

"Though… the fact that you're in a Grand Soul Gem instead of a Black Soul Gem… pft…" I resisted the urge to snicker. It would have been funnier if he'd been put into a Petty Soul Gem instead – but I suppose his soul wasn't worth that little. Or at least, that was the explanation I was sticking with.

"I-I-Issei?"

Sanity seemed to return to Issei's mother, and she turned her gaze to me, eyes wide, before her attention turned to the scene, her hands covering her mouth as she looked over the bloodied corpse of her husband, and the rising dead body of her son.

"N-n-no –" she whispered.

"Yes," I countered, before turning my attention to the pale-skinned, dull-eyed minion. Issei as a Zombie, was unsurprisingly dull to look at. I could feel a link with him, in the same way I felt connected to my conjured familiars. For the most part, his skin was pale and chalky, his eyes glowed, and although he lacked sentience, he still stood upright and was capable of proper locomotive movements.

"Uhhhhh..." the Undead Issei groaned out, and I stared appreciatively at the impressive necromantic powers I possessed.

"Zombie Issei. Zombissei? Whatever –" I shook my head, before pointing at his mother. "Beat her until she loses consciousness."

The woman's eyes widened. She stared, confused, afraid, disbelieving, as her son moved forward, and stood over her, expressionless.

"I-I-Issei-kun?"

"Uhhhh!"

The first blow connected, and her scream echoed out into the room. Of course, I wasn't doing this for amusement. At least, not entirely anyway. Rather, it was all part of my grand master plan to ensure that any sort of possible explanation she could give to the police would be rendered fucking irrelevant in light of the overwhelming evidence.

Whilst I could kill her, it would only lead to an open investigation as to the death of the Hyoudou family. But, leaving her alive –

I winced a bit as Zombie-Issei kicked his mother in the stomach.

Yeah – that was why I had her kill her husband.

Stabbed to death = crime of passion.

His dead skin cells on her nails = indicative of a fight.

Numerous bruises on her person = signs of assault.

It wouldn't take long for people to come to the natural assumption that she killed her son and husband in self-defense. Oh, she could say that she didn't do that, and that a mysterious man had killed her son and husband and then brought back her son's corpse to beat her –

But all that would be dismissed as the delusional ramblings of a woman who could not come to terms with her crime, or, her trauma.

At best, she'd be sent to prison. At worst, she'd be sent to a psychiatric institution.

The perfect scapegoat.

"When you're sure she's unconscious," I spoke to Zombie-Issei "Put your dick in her mouth, make her bite it off, and then wrap her hands around your neck, and strangle yourself with then."

A dull "uhhh" of agreement was what I got in response, and I smiled.

"Oh – but don't forget to 'have fun' with her before that. Gotta make this look fucking convincing, don't we?"

I silently closed the door to the Hyoudou Bedroom, the sound of frantic, begging screams echoing behind me.

XXXXXX

Kuoh

Abandoned Church Building

"Who else have you told?"

The question and sharpness of his tone made Raynare instinctively stand at full attention. His gaze, landing on her form and navigating across her eyes sent a shudder down her spine. She knew there was nothing sexual or predatory about his gaze. Yet, that could not stop her instinctive response, one of the original Fallen was gazing upon her. Her. Many of their kind would kill for this moment.

"No one, Azazel-sama."

Azazel. Commander-General of the Grigori. Despite being several hundreds of thousands if not millions of years old, he appeared to be a slightly youthful young man in his mid-twenties. He possessed shaggy hair and a masculine beard, thick, delicious muscles that Raynare would have been salivating for had she not possessed more refined self-control than most. Her contemporaries, failed laughably at this task, as Mittelt looked torn between creaming herself and lunging straight at their leader. Kalawarner's normally stony face was replaced with an expression that would not be out of place on a drunken schoolgirl with a crush. Even Dohnaseek was not immune to Azazel's allure, and the man did his best to avoid gazing straight into the eyes of the one.

Fallen Angels. Their very form and essence was synonymous with lust and desire. They were the rebels of the supernatural world. The deviants. In the pecking order of promiscuity, they were a step higher than devils, but below succubus and incubus. In terms of attractiveness, they rivaled the demons of sex, they rivaled lorelei, mermaids, sirens, and more. This was most commonly noticed with their female members, but, what was not commonly known was that their attractiveness was dependent entirely on their power and rank. The more power you had, and ergo, the more wings you held, the more your youth and aesthetic appeal shone. They were like peacocks in that sense, except, rather than the being with the most colorful feathers being the most attractive, the ones with the most wings and power were the most beautiful.

At the highest rank, Azazel was a god.

It didn't matter if the woman in question was a devout nun, a married woman, a paraplegic, or even someone who was biologically asexual. Upon gazing on his form, you would be tempted. Male, female, beast or child – all was irrelevant. Before him, you were nothing but butter to be melted and molded as he saw fit.

"And you say, he did this by… healing you?"

She shuddered at his voice. At his touch. Feeling soft fingers touching the new appendages she possessed, the extra pair of wings. Wings which were sensitive, and made her bite her lip before immediately responding.

"Y-yes Azazel-sama."

She dared not look up. She knelt, bowing before the supreme one. She dared not look up lest she say or do something stupid or foolish that would forever taunt and mock her as long as she lived. Lest she threw aside all inhibitions and practically begged the man to take her. Of course, that was a pipedream. She, Raynare, and most of the others in their species knew that Azazel had (mostly) given up his promiscuous ways. Now, he had eyes for only two things: tinkering with Sacred Gears, and the Seraph Gabriel.

Azazel believed he could tempt Gabriel to fall.

No one doubted him.

For such a reason, Michael had prohibited the meeting of Azazel with any of the white-wings. Azazel could make any angel fall, regardless of who they were. The only one who would be immune to Azazel's charm would perhaps be Michael himself.

"Curious. Simply… curious."

Raynare felt her cheeks warm at the praise.

"Does it not… bother you, Azazel-sama?"

"Bother me?" Azazel mused. "No, no. The exact opposite. This is the most exciting thing to have happened in so long –"

He was referring to her extra pair of wings. Her extra pair of pristine wings. White wings.

It was a baffling thing. White Wings were the hallmarks of pure angels. Once you had fallen, you could not, never, get back your white wings. You would remain a Fallen forever. Yet, in the span of one day, a mysterious being had come up and broken that rule asunder. He could heal the taint inherent in the soul. The curse that prevented Fallen from returning to join their brethren in heaven. Such a thing was simply unheard of. Simply inconceivable.

Merely remembering it, remembering that vampire, Ragnar Lothrbrok, he called himself –

It send shudders down Raynare's spine, and not shudders of the pleasurable variety.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you all that this is a big deal, and that you shouldn't mention this to your brethren." Azazel spoke, his voice serious. "For obvious reasons, the ability to heal the taint in a soul goes beyond any conventional method of healing we have seen in a long while. So, we're going to keep this to ourselves."

All the gathered Fallen nodded sharply.

"Azazel-sama, what do I do about my… wings…"

"Don't like the shine?"

Raynare grimaced slightly. "I – I prefer, my life as a Fallen. I do not wish, ever again, to become a lifeless tool bound in service and protection to humans."

Azazel let out something that sounded like a sigh. There was a significant amount of understanding in that sigh.

"I suppose it can't be helped. I'm not fond of the idea of ever becoming a pure angel again either." Azazel said. His lips then quirked. "If you want them to return to normal, you'll have to sleep with Kalawarner."

…

There was a long stretch of silence.

Raynare turned to stare at the woman, the woman in question turned to stare back at her.

"What?" They spoke as one.

Azazel laughed. "Hahahaha! Look at you two, blushing so hard as though you've never contemplated the idea before."

Raynare fought hard to hide the redness of her face, whilst Kalawarner shamelessly was agreeing to it. Fool, Raynare thought. Even if Azazel-sama had said she would love to bend over and do at it with a goat, Kalawarner would have agreed without question.

"Ah, forgive me, Azazel-sama – but why do I have to do such a thing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he spoke casually. "Even if the taint in a fallen angel's soul can be healed, it can also be returned. Pure angels cannot have sex without Falling, so doing something that is considered as a 'sin' in the scriptures will be enough to turn your wings back to a nice healthy black."

And in this case, the 'sin' was sleeping with a fellow woman – homosexual relations – which was a big no-no in the Lord's eyes. Raynare almost snorted at the prudishness of their 'father' and the fickleness of what was considered 'pure' in his sight.

"Still… I never expected this," Azazel muttered under his breath "A Vampire with immense mastery of fire and the ability to heal not only physical wounds, but 'wounds' engraved unto the very soul? It doesn't match any myth or legend I have ever heard of before – nor does it match any recorded Sacred Gears… it's a mystery, and I don't like mysteries."

"He said he could be found… at a place called the Dead Man's Drink." Raynare supplied.

"A bar?" Azazel asked. "He can be found… at a bar? Must be a man after my own heart."

Raynare could tell that the leader of her species was planning something. He had that smile, that dangerous smirk which had toppled empires and brought about uprisings. A smirk that he had possessed across years, watching as civilizations and dynasties rose and fall.

"So which one of my subordinates would like to join me for a drink?"

XXXXX

Kuoh Academy

11:43 AM

School was awkward for Aika Kiryu.

Everyone could feel the elephant in the room, but no one wanted to be the one to point out its overwhelming presence. The teachers seemed intent on pretending as though nothing was wrong, even though half of his entire class had chosen to stray as far away from the one empty seat in their presence.

Everyone was muted, quiet, especially in lieu of the circumstances. It wasn't a respectful silence, it wasn't even a solemn silence, but it was one that no one could break because no one knew how to break it. No one, except for two people, of course, who swore, up and down, left and right, about the reason for their silence, but at the same time, no one seemed to intent on listening to them.

"I'm telling you! There's no way – I mean –"

"Shut it!" Katase yelled. "You could be like him for all we know! Both of you!"

The accusation was a heavy one. It wasn't like the times when they'd be caught peeping, or the times where calling them perverts was just stating out a fact, now, it was different. The gravity of the situation weighed on everyone's soldiers.

"How – how dare you –" Motohama spoke. "We wouldn't – I wouldn't –"

"Wouldn't rape your own mother?"

The entire class fell silent. The elephant was ungraciously announced.

"We don't know he did that!" Matsuda argued. "Issei wouldn't do that!"

No matter how much Matsuda and Motohama seemed to come to the defense of their friend, it felt for naught. Aika could only stare on with the rest, uncertain of that fact, because not even Matsuda seemed to believe it. No matter how much he roared it out, his expression, his face, twisting in pain, seemed to be conflicted on it as much as the next person.

If his own best friends weren't absolutely certain, weren't absolutely sure, why should she? Why should anyone believe them? Aika kept her thoughts to herself as she watched the unfolding tension.

"You say that, but you three – you little creeps always go about peeping on girls and talking about porn – you've probably jerked yourselves off to the thought of half the girls in this school –" Katase responded, shuddering in disgust "The way you look at me and roam at me with your eyes. It makes me sick. I want to vomit, at the sight of the likes of you. Issei was just the first among you to show his true colors –"

"Don't you dare –"

"His own mother? How sick do you have to be –"

"SHUT UP!" Matsuda yelled.

Aika, and the rest of the class, watched, transfixed, as Matsuda of the Peverted Trio lost his temper, and snarled at Katase. He grabbed the girl by the arm, yelling into her face.

"ISSEI WOULDN'T! YOU HEAR ME?! HE WOULDN'T –"

"L-let go –"

"He wouldn't! He – he had a girlfriend! That lucky bastard got a girlfriend, so – so –"

"You're hurting me!" Katase cried "Let go! P-please let go!"

"Matsuda! Let her go!"

"He – he – wouldn't…"

"Matsuda!"

"Shut up Motohama!" Matsuda roared. "I'm not going to sit back and listen to people insult my friend! He was a lucky bastard, an annoying bastard, BUT HE WAS MY FRIEND!" Matsuda panted, gritting his teeth. "HE WAS MY FRIEND! And he's dead! And I'm not going to let anyone talk shit about him – you hear me?! I'm NOT!"

"Matsuda! You're scaring her!"

The words brought him to a pause. A hard-reboot. He realized, truly, Katase looked upon him with a frightened gaze, his refusal to let her go being enough to make the girl appear small and timid. A deep contrast to the person who often looked down at him with a snobby air and demeanor.

And it wasn't just her.

The mixed gazes of fear and apprehension slammed into his gut like a sledgehammer.

Aika stood up, moving to separate Katase from him, watching as the boy recoiled back as though he'd been burned at the sight of the stern glare she gave him.

"A-Aika… you believe me right? Issei would never –"

"You need to leave."

Matsuda flinched.

"Both of you. Please, leave."

With thick, heavy silence, the last two living members of the perverted trio grit their teeth, hung their heads, and departed from their classroom. Although no one said it, they all knew, somehow, that they would not come back.

XXXXXXX

Occult Research Club

1:01 PM

A newspaper slammed on the coffee table, followed by a loud grunt of annoyance melded with irritation.

"We need to find him." Sona Sitri said, no preamble. "The damage has been done, albeit controlled to local news. It would have reflected badly on Kuoh Academy's image otherwise, and bring unnecessary amount of scrutiny. Regardless, the entire school is aware of what happened, and it has put the entire student body on edge."

Across from Sona, her friend and rival sat, her eyes narrowed as she picked up the newspaper and read its contents. Standing behind her, her rival's queen examined the paper with equal scrutiny. They were the only three people in the room, Sona noted.

"Ara ara, that's quite morbid."

Her friend and rival, with long red locks of hair sat, cross-legged, as her lips thinned slightly and her countenance changed upon reading the paper. Sona knew why. She knew the plans that her friend had put in place, considering the speculation of the fact that Hyoudou Issei was supposed to possess a dragon-inclined Sacred Gear. She knew, that Rias possessed her sights on the boy, and now, the boy was no longer a viable candidate for her peerage. His body was too badly mangled, it had been far too long since it had cooled, and worst of all, the overwhelming amount of proof as to the nature of the crime the boy had committed.

They were devils of course, and things such as these were not supposed to be news to them. Except, Sona knew, that her friend and the Gremory family in general had a certain reputation as being the 'nice' 'kind' and 'family-oriented' sort of individuals. No doubt, if Hyoudou Issei was the type of person to be overwhelmed enough by lust to go after his mother, there was no doubt that he would have gone after her 'family'.

The very thought that she almost put someone like that in her peerage must no doubt have been irked her.

Of course, it was an unexpected event, all things considering. She'd been sowing the seeds of the boy and keeping an eye over him ever since that Fallen Angel approached him and asked him out. Most likely, the Fallen's plan had been to kill him, a set-up which would have enabled her friend to revive him at a token price. Who would, or could, possibly anticipate the boy being killed by his own mother, before then?

"Rias." Sona spoke. "Hyoudou's fate aside, we have more pressing issues to deal with."

Her friend, Rias Gremory, frowned. "Do we?"

"The half-naked policeman." Sona began, raising one finger. "The unexplained attack on the church." Another one. "And now, the Hyoudou-family incident."

"You feel they are related?"

"Once is circumstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action." Sona stated. "There is something or someone, moving and operating behind the scenes in Kuoh. I have a feeling he might be behind the Hyoudou-incident as well, but there is no way to prove it. There was surprisingly very little magical presence at the scene of the crime."

"I'm a bit preoccupied with something more important than chasing after ghosts right now Sona."

Sona Sitri rose an eyebrow, noting her friend's unusual level of irritation.

"I do not see how Raiser Phenex is more important than the possibility of an unknown agent making moves against us."

Rias turned to give her a glare. "You're not the one who has to marry him."

"No I am not." She replied succinctly. "Because I have already made my boundaries and established them. I refuse to marry a person who is my intellectual inferior, and until my parents surpass that hurdle, I have no fear of betrothals."

The not-so-subtle recommendation was insinuated. Where are your own established boundaries?

Rather than answer the question, which she couldn't, Rias changed it entirely. "What makes you feel this person is a threat?"

"You mean other than the unnatural feeling, the sheer magical presence that easily reaches that of a High-Class Devil, and the fact that he utterly demolished and massacred the Fallen Angels and Exorcists taking up residence in the old church?"

"I mean, what makes you feel that this person is a threat, to us."

Sona blinked. Then, she scowled.

"Rias, you cannot possibly be considering recruiting this person into your peerage –"

"You said it yourself. A magical presence that is close to that of a high-class devil. Don't you feel it's worth considering?"

"It is." Sona admitted. "More accurately, it was. However, the statistical probability of controlling a being of that much power and expecting any sort of subservience is incredibly low."

"You and your statistics."

"Rias, I am serious."

"So am I."

Sona resisted the urge to grind her teeth. "This is not the same as recruiting orphans or picking up emotionally scarred children."

The room chilled a little bit. Akeno's 'smile' became a little bit strained, and Rias' lips thinned.

"Sona, you know I don't like it when you insult my peerage."

"And you know I do not appreciate it when plainly stated facts are considered as insults." Sona countered. "Or should we perhaps ignore the oddity of the nature in which you acquired every member of your peerage? Or do I pretend that your brother, Sirzechs-sama, did not have a hand in granting you with the talented individuals you now possess?"

"Ara ara, Kaicho," Akeno spoke up, her voice unusually calm. "Is that a hint of envy I detect in your voice?"

"Of course." Sona said bluntly. "Only a person incapable of appreciating talent would lack envy at seeing Rias' peerage. All of you are remarkable, and the potential for growth is equally immense. Which is why it irks me that Rias has taken an incredibly lax approach that borders on boundless laziness for your training."

Rias blinked, before pouting. "I'm not lazy."

Sona sighed. "The tea-party when we were eight."

"That was one –"

"The essays on the Salem Witch Trials."

"Just two –"

"The project on the Great War. The holiday vacation we were supposed to spend in the Amazon. The time you forgot Lucifer-sama's birthday. The time you did not show up for my birthday. The time you attempted to learn ballet, but gave up because you felt it was too much work. Or baking. Or bicycle riding. Or singing. Or mounting climbing, hiking, painting –"

With each item she listed, Sona watched as her friend's cheeks considerably reddened and her attempt at maintaining any semblance of being a dignified heiress faded with each one.

"Perhaps, the most egregious example, is your arranged marriage with Raiser." Sona said. "You've known about this contract since we were twelve. Yet, you have decided to do something about it, four weeks to the wedding day. Your penchant for procrastination has lasted how many years exactly?"

Sona was particularly peeved about that last one. You would think, considering what Raiser was like, that Rias would at the very least not want to spend the rest of her life moaning under him. At least, she would try to do something to end the marriage contract, much, much earlier.

But no –

She ignored it for years, and was only now trying to think up ways to escape from it.

"W-well – I was… busy." She finished lamely.

"Busy buying collector editions action figures of manga, and playing every eroge to have been released from this country, no doubt."

Cue awkward cough from the flustered girl in question. Sona only shook her head at that.

"We could have gone to any other country in the world, any high-class institution, perhaps preferably in England, Norway or Australia. I myself would have preferred Scandinavia, Canada or Iceland. However, we are in Japan, because you love anime, and Lucifer-sama wanted you to have access to as much of it as you can."

"Are you really going to pull that card, Miss My-Older-Sister-Is-A-Magical-Girl?"

Sona couldn't help the heat that rushed to her face. "We are not talking about her."

It was hard to argue or maintain a logical point when someone reminded you that your elder sister, arguably the most powerful female devil in the world, was often revealed in provocative clothing and sexually 'assaulted' by tentacles and all sorts of monsters on a daily basis, for the amusement and enjoyment of the masses. Not to mention the realization that there were hundreds of thousands of growing male devils who had used her sister's face as a masturbatory aid at one point or another.

"You're still too easy to tease Sona."

"D-don't think you can change the topic that easily!" Sona stammered. "Rias, you need to focus on this issue. I understand that as devils we will most likely live to several hundred thousand years and can never die of old age – but that is not necessarily enough reason to live as frivolously and carelessly as you do."

"Isn't it the perfect reason to do so?" Rias argued. "To live in the moment, and cherish what I have in front of me, now. Sona – when was the last time you actually did something you enjoyed doing? Or the last time you did something because you felt like it?"

They'd had this dance numerous times. Too many times to count. Rias was a free-soul, an individual rare amongst their kind. She wanted to simply live as she did, as she wanted, unobstructed, unbothered, and she wanted others to have that same sense of living that she did. She wanted to spend her time in bliss and enjoyment. She wanted to absolve herself of all responsibilities and merely flow along the river of life, peacefully accepting the tides and currents as it dragged her along.

In contrast, Sona was the opposite. She wanted to make something out of her life. She did not want to move with the tides, no matter how soothing they may be. No, she would carve herself an anchor out of rock and sink to the bottom if it meant getting her way.

They were both spoiled rotten in this way, Sona knew. Rias lived a life lavished by her older brother who provided anything and everything she demanded of her, and would go above and beyond for her. There was a point Sona had genuinely been worried that Lucifer-sama saw Rias in a sexual-light simply due to the sheer amount of rules and laws he was willing to bend and break just to guarantee her happiness. A part of her felt that there was no way it could be pure familial love that drove Sirzechs Lucifer to such extremes. But, that part of her had not understood what it entailed to be a Gremory – to be absolutely possessive, incredibly childish and downright terrifying at the same time.

However, Sona would admit that she possessed her own flaws as much as Rias did. She had been given too much responsibilities and liberties. No one had treated her like a child since she was old enough to receive sexual advances, at age seven, and hence, she grew in that manner. Her older sister was childish, but at the same time, somehow granted Sona her desires and treated her like an adult instead of a child. She could not remember what it was like to be carefree and to lack responsibility, to not have a firm control over the situation and to have something that was out of her abilities to govern or own. She became the Student Council President out of that need to control, organize, and her own whimsical desires to always bring about order and stability. Traits she felt were the hallmark of the adult.

She saw Rias' lifestyle as one that was chaotic, without order or form, like a ship with a thousand captains, each one barking orders, whilst the parrot and first mate made love in the cellars.

Rias saw her lifestyle as a caged bird forced to stamp an unending stream of paperwork, punching cards at the end of each workday, and singing in an entirely monotone voice the same tireless song.

It was the reason they were rivals.

It was a wonder as to how they were friends.

"Getting back to the matter at hand," Sona said. "I have my familiars and my peerage scouring for the Foreigner. Whilst I hope for a peaceful first contact – I do not necessarily feel that it might be the case."

Rias sighed. "I suppose I'll have to search as well. Koneko-chan should be able to sniff out anything unusual if she goes patrolling."

"Alone?"

"She can handle herself fine. Neither Akeno, Kiba, nor myself are suited for doing things covertly you know."

Sona swore that Rias' large breasts bounced in response to that, and the smirk that her friend gave her only seemed to highlight it. Sona slowly adjusted her glasses.

"You did that on purpose."

Another bounce.

"I don't know what you mean."

Sona resisted the urge to say something snappy. Rias was baiting her, and they both knew it. Whereas she would arguably remain Rias' intellectual superior, and Rias would never be capable of out-debating her in an argument, there were ways that Rias won.

For instance, leaning back, exposing a bit more of her far richer thighs, and well-developed chest area with a casual flick of her long hair.

Sona would not hesitate admitting envy to Rias about her clearly superior and exceptional peerage. But she would be damned if she admitted that she was envious about Rias' appearance. Even though they both knew it, Sona wasn't going to admit it.

No. She was not going to admit it in the slightest.

"Rias, you –"

DOV.

The eyes of everyone in the room went wide at the sudden surge of overwhelming magical power and weight that dropped on their shoulders. Sona's body felt weak, as though gravity had intensified a few hundred times, and she stared in fascinated horror as her lenses shattered from the ambient power in the air. Potent. Potent. Powerful – far far more powerful than anything she had ever felt before. The sheer ludicrousness of it all was the fact that the power was emanating from somewhere in Kuoh, but she couldn't find it. It was as futile as attempting to find a leak in a half-submerged ship.

She dropped to her knees, momentarily – and she realized that the sheer pressure was too much for her to withstand.

Then, all at once, the pressure vanished.

Simultaneously, the sound of numerous people gasping for breath hit her ears, and she turned her gaze sharply to her friend, who seemed to be in the midst of catching her breath.

"Do you still think Raiser Phenex is more important?"

XXXXX

Dead Man's Drink

Earlier that Day…

After leaving the Hyoudou Residence, I'd returned home feeling perkier than I felt was normal. Thankfully, my lovely conjured minions kept the exorcists in check, preventing them from running away or escaping after they'd all woken up.

I was feeling fucking great on the other hand.

Fuck! I'd just killed Issei, and framed his mother up for the crime – and the adrenaline was still pumping from the fact that I'd gotten away with it. Oh, and of course, the adrenaline was still pumping from the fact that I'd absorbed Ddraig's soul as well – couldn't forget that.

The only problem?

I didn't have much of an idea as to how I'd go about using Ddraig's powers.

Ddraig and by extension, the Boosted Gear, had a list of abilities which included: Power Multiplication. Power Transference. Penetrate all forms of Defenses. And of course, burning hot flames which could not be put out and could supposedly burn the soul of a God.

Accessing these powers on the other hand… well, I didn't know. My best bet would be to try a shout, but what shout? The Thu'um was powerful, and I knew I could make my own shouts with it, but… how?

The fact that I'd finally gained Ddraig's Soul but didn't know how to use it irked me. Like fuck, I knew there was no manual for this and all… but it shouldn't be that hard to access, should it?

[No. It should not.]

I blinked.

What the fuck?!

[In all the years I've been alive, I've never seen a case like this. Never had a partner like you.]

I grit my teeth.

"Ddraig."

[You can speak in your head. No one else can hear you but me anyway.]

"How the fucking hell are you alive? I absorbed your soul!"

[You did.] Ddraig admitted. [Had I been any other dragon, that would have been the end of me. All that I am and all that I've seen – vanished and subsumed under you.]

I rose an eyebrow at that.

[But I am not any other dragon. I am the Red Dragon Emperor. The only Dragon with the ability to amplify my powers. And amplify, I did.]

"You… you amplified the power of your soul?"

What the fuck? Was that even possible?

[Hah! So you're not just crazy, you're also quick on the update. I like that.] Ddraig said. [There are hundreds, no… thousands, of different souls swirling inside you. All the souls of Dragons, dragons I do not know and have never heard about. I would have become another one, had I not used my power to Boost my consciousness enough to be capable of communicating with you. Unfortunately – it seems that's the most I can do.]

I mulled over this information quietly.

[But, partner, do you mind me asking… what are you?] Ddraig spoke. [To have that many souls inside you. You've killed more dragons than there should be dragons alive. It feels as though your very existence was made for just the purpose of slaying dragons. It… terrifies me.]

I blinked. "You… don't know?"

[Don't know what?]

"Skyrim." I tested. "Does that word mean anything to you?"

[Should it?]

I almost let out a sigh of relief.

"You can't see my memories, can you?"

[No. I barely have enough strength to communicate with you. Looking into your memories is… difficult. It's obscured, confused, disjointed. Almost as though you have two personalities and two lives – I can't make sense of it. Even if I were to be at full power, I still wouldn't be capable of understanding it.]

Good. Good – there was no way I was going to let Ddraig see into my memories and have to explain that shit -

[Hah. I feel my soul being drained away. I suppose I do not have much longer.]

I blinked at that information. "You're going to… fade away?"

[No. I'm going to become you.]

"…what?"

[You've absorbed my soul. That means absorbing all that I am and all that I have been. My memories, my knowledge, my experiences, everything that made me who I am, all of it, will become a part of you. All of it, will become, in essence… you.]

… I hadn't thought about it that way before. Shit, but – but that wasn't how things worked in Skyrim… was it?

I mean, you Absorbed Dragon Souls, and then you used the Soul to learn new Shouts –

…but, wait a minute. Did that essentially mean, each time I learned a new Shout, I was using the knowledge and experience of the Dragon I slayed to be able to do so? So… I was, technically, gaining the experience and knowledge of a Word of Power from the soul of a Dragon who could use it –

I shook my head at this information. Shit, all of this was slightly more complicated than I thought.

"You know, you don't sound too pissed off about all this."

A loud laugh echoed inside my head. [And why would I be?] Ddraig said. [I'm immortal. Unaging. Unchanging. For years I've been embroiled in a never-ending conflict with my rival Albion, for a reason we don't even remember. I've fought with both Yahweh and Lucifer – and I've had my fair share of conquering, devouring, destroying, and existing. Living by proxy through hosts is not the sort of existence I desire for all eternity.]

"But… you'll be gone. For all eternity."

[No.] Ddraig corrected. [I'll be you. A new form of existence. Reincarnation, as it were. I will not cease to exist, nor will I fade into nothingness – all that I am, I, Ddraig, will become you. A man, who, I believe, has no plans of going gently into that good night.]

I couldn't help it. My lips curled into a smile.

[Through you, my legacy continues. Conquer. Fight. Sow chaos or deliver paradise. It matters little whether you succeed or fail – you are the successor of the Red Dragon Emperor. You are the one who carries the soul of Y Ddraig Goch. And for that, your existence will be remembered.]

His voice, slowly, gingerly, began to fade.

[The Red Dragon Emperor has not died.]

The voice whispered.

[He has been reborn.]

New Power Added.

New Power Added.

Word of Power Learned –

Word of Power Learned –

Word of Power Learned –

New Shout Acquired.

The words, unbidden, came forth from my mouth.

"MUL."

The room shook.

"NAHL."

The ground shook.

"DOV."

The world, shook